


Therapeutics

by Bexism



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2019-08-04 15:12:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16349078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bexism/pseuds/Bexism
Summary: “Once you've got your name, take a sofa together alone and tell each other one secret you wouldn’t tell anyone else.”Therapeutics focuses on bringing those who were involved in the war and pushing them out of their comfort zones to confront their past, relying on magic to choose their partners for the year. Hermione Granger has overcome war, pain and loss. She's mastered classes, puberty and friendships. But when Draco Malfoy's name lands in her lap, she feels like she's hit one mountain in her life that she just won't conquer.





	1. Chapter 1

The war was over. The light side had prospered. The dark side engulfed, leaving nothing but cowardly tendrils behind.

There was rejoicing, but it seemed to barely last. They’d lost many people, those in the brink of their lives and those whose lives were just beginning.

It was the last funeral for Hermione Granger, who left the Creevey’s to cry over the freshly dug grave belonging to their son. No one told her that it wasn’t just going to be the war that left scars, but the grief too. The blood and the killing seemed nothing compared to the distraught sobbing of mothers and fathers.

Hermione pulled her black robes closer to her chin and  crunched through the gravel towards the Apparating point. The sun was warm on her head, but she felt cold. Always cold. She glanced up at her destination, where Harry and Ron were waiting for her. They both look tired, glum and aged beyond their years and yet their postures seemed loose and free. Their lives could finally begin.

“Miss Granger!”

“Over here!”

“A word for the Daily Prophet?”

Scowling at the cordoned off reporters, she hurried over to the boys, smiling when they turned their heads to look at her.

“Alright Hermione?” Harry asked with a weary smile.

“Never better,” she responded.

With a harsh zap, the Golden Trio Disapparated.

\---

Draco Malfoy sipped on his pumpkin juice, watching as students filtered through the Hogwarts Express, some chatting, some silent and haunted. Whatever type of person they were, none of them spared him even a glance and if they did, they turned away with nothing but a wrinkling of their nose. He didn’t care. He had spent his first seven years at Hogwarts without the need to make friends and he wasn’t about to start needing to now.

“Maybe we should branch out a bit this year, House alliance and all that.” Blaise’s voice cut through his thoughts and Draco turned to him, wondering if he had noticed the solemn looks he had been giving to the people passing by.

“If you remember, the big alliance happened while the Slytherins were locked up in the dungeons. Didn’t even get a bloody chance did you?” Draco replied, unable to hide the distaste in his voice. 

Everyone could talk as much as they wanted about prejudice the Purebloods dished out, but they hid behind theirs with their distrust and scorn towards people they didn’t even want to try and understand.

“Nothing stopping us trying, mate.” Blaise clapped him on the back and sent him a grim half-smile. 

Draco was grateful that Blaise and Theo were joining him on the journey to Hogwarts for his mandatory ‘eighth year’. Everyone else who had once followed him blindly once before had scattered and refused to return to the place of their defeat. Blaise and Theo - the only two who were never his followers, only companions - had accepted their Hogwarts letters with ease and almost excitement. They were ready for a fresh start.

Draco, however? He was there on strict notice from the Wizengamot to attend, even though he wanted to be at home in the Manor, house arrest be damned. He was more than happy to spend the next year locked up in the Manor with his mother, who was finally free of the Dark Lord and more importantly, his father. He wanted to drink lychee tea with her, play Wizard's chess with her - hell, he was even prepared to get the gloves out and help her garden. It was her way of coping with her trauma, putting her wand down and getting her hands dirty and covered in soil. She had said to him that it made her feel accomplished, growing new life with her bare hands. He couldn’t fault her for that.

But instead, he was here, sitting on the train to a place filled with people who wanted nothing more than to cut his throat and watch him bleed out with unbridled glee.

Draco’s eyes rose as yet another person passes by the window to his carriage. They connected with Hermione Granger’s. Her body became jilted and slowed almost to a halt, as if she struggled to drag her feet across the floor. She slowly passed him, eyes on him the entire time. Draco held his gaze with her, refusing to break away. As soon as she passed he looked down at his trembling hands, unable to hold back the images fluttering through his head of her writhing on the cold floor of the Manor.

“Didn’t realise we’d be graced by the presence of our very own war heroes,” Blaise said, slumping back in his seat. “I think I’ve changed my mind about this whole ‘House alliance’ bullshit.”

With a soft snort, Draco clamped his shaking hands together and leant back too. Everything seemed so trivial now; the Houses, the House cup, exam results, childhood feuds, Quidditch. When you’ve stared evil in the eyes and watched unthinkable things happen to human beings, magic or not, nothing seemed to matter.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes and waited for the train to arrive at his not-quite prison.

\---

Hermione threw herself down into one of the warm, tattered chairs in the Gryffindor common room, swiping her hair out of her face. She’d finished unpacking and the emotional turmoil at being in a place where she’d seen children die alongside friends - it was too much for her to take in for one night.

“Feels great being back here, doesn’t it?” Harry said as he walked in, looking around at all the other students milling about in the common room. They all sent him smiles and a few gave him a thumbs up. Hermione looked around, noticing she was on the receiving end of a couple of gestures as well.

“It’s lovely, Harry, it is. But doesn’t it all feel a bit…” she waved her hand in the air, “Silly?”

Harry put himself in a seat opposite her, confused. Seeing his expression, she sat up straighter and leant forward to explain quietly.

“We won a war. Our entire world was almost destroyed and now we’re back here to win a little gold cup for points we’ve gotten for good behaviour, to sit at segregated tables and eat our meals, to get detention for roaming the halls past curfew.” She shook her head, smiling. “It’s not that I don’t love it here, it’s one of the only places I’ve ever felt at home. But we’re not children anymore. This hardly feels appropriate.”

Harry blinked at her as if was taking a bit longer to register her words than it should. Then gave her a fond smile. “You sure are a downer, Hermione.” 

She laughed. “I don’t mean to ruin your fun, Harry! Feels a bit strange, is all.”

“Isn’t it good though? The mundane. Just what we need, really.” Harry replied. Hermione regarded him with surprise. Of course, she hadn’t thought of it that way. A chance to be normal.

“You’re right,” she said, not able to hide the edge of astonishment in her voice. Harry’s eyes twinkled with amusement.

“Don’t sound too shocked,” he laughed. His gaze lifted to above her left shoulder and he smiled at Ron, whose travelling eyes finally spotted them in the crowds. 

Before he could reach them, Harry turned to Hermione.

“I know it’s none of my business, but have either of you talked yet?” Hermione grimaced a little at the question, tucking her hands in her lap and shifting uncomfortably.

“There’s not exactly been a suitable time to bring it up,” she answered, feeling a slight pang of guilt in her stomach. The ‘kiss’ in the Chamber of Secrets seemed to have become yet another thing that wasn’t up for discussion after the battle at Hogwarts. There’d been hand-holding, comforting hugs and sometimes the occasional peck on the cheek scattered throughout the onslaught of events and press conferences they’d felt obliged to attend over the summer. Nothing seemed to solidify an answer to the questions in Hermione’s head.

“Alright guys? Feels bloody weird being back here again,” Ron huffed out as he slumped into the raggedy sofa beside Hermione. “I’m gonna enjoy having no homework or evil overlord to defeat for tonight.”

“Second that one mate,” Harry responded, sitting up to rummage through his pockets. “Hey, either of you see that new class we’ve got? I asked Ginny about it, apparently she’s got it too.”

Hermione scowled and pulled out her class schedule from the pile of parchment beside her. Her eyes scanned the classes she had decided to pick for her NEWT’s; Arithmancy, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Potions, Study of Ancient Runes and… Therapeutics?

She rubbed her temple with one hand while letting out a disappointed sigh.

“It’s counselling, Harry. Group therapy.”

“Sod off,” Ron barked, pulling out his schedule. He jabbed his finger at the parchment. “I’ve got it too!”

“I don’t need any help. Definitely not in front of a room full of people, and definitely not in a room full of Slytherins,” Harry protested, shoving his schedule back in his pocket roughly. “I’m going to talk to Professor McGonagall.”

“I hardly think that will help, Harry. In fact, I’m sure she would’ve had a hand in this.” Hermione tucked her schedule away and set her stern gaze on him. “We need this, whether you think so or not. You will be anything  _ but _ the exception this time; in fact, I’m certain you’re the only one she believes should be there.”

Harry waved a hand down his face and sent her a solemn look.

“This isn’t going to be good, is it?” He asked, letting out a slight groan. Hermione rested her head against the soft back of her armchair, tilting her head to glance at Ron, who was looking between them both with his miserable, puppy-dog expression.

“No,” she whispered, eyes roaming over the face of the boy she had been in love with for as long as she could remember, “it isn’t.”

\---

Draco placed himself as far back from the front of the class as possible, as was the procedure for every class he had decided to take. At the back, people had to go out of their way to make sure that their poisonous glares reached him, whereas at the front it left him open and undefended. Not that stares and whispers did any damage to him, but he wasn’t about to wait and see if anyone left at Hogwarts considered him worth throwing their own life away for and decided to send a particular green Killing curse at his unguarded back.

_ Therapeutics _ . He huffed a soft laugh and looked down to scribble on his parchment as students came filing in through the door, chatting in pairs or keeping their heads down. It was a joke, really. Was a walk through the park or an hour of meditating going to take away the trauma of war? The losses? The unforgettable memories of blood and lifeless eyes and screaming?

He was quite happy with his bottle of Firewhiskey stashed underneath his bed back in the Slytherin dungeons, locked safely away in the newly-built temporary Eighth-year sub-dormitory.

As the last two people entered the classroom - Potter and Weasley, as always - the door closed quietly behind them. The moment the latch caught, a globe of sparkling light expanded from the middle of the room all the way to the edges where it morphed with the walls, leaving a faint twinkle on the brown brickwork.

“It’s a Binding spell. Anything shared in confidence that leaves this room will have extreme consequences,” a voice cut through the quieting chatter.

Draco watched as the huge hall began to transform. In one corner, an oasis began to sprout, with palm trees and a babbling brook and rocks that smoothed out on top to form seats. In another corner, plump pillows in soft pastel colours began to pop out of thin air and place themselves in a comfortable circle on the floor. A flurry of thick, pale blue curtains closed across them. In the third corner, what looked a cushioned bowl appeared, wooden slats forming a solid wall around it. In the last, a simple podium.

The bench he was sitting on seemed to morph into a comfortable armchair and his parchment and quill disappeared from his hands. 

“This isn’t a lesson. This isn’t a place to take notes or strain your brain, this isn’t a place where more will be pushed into your cramped headspace. Here, you’ll receive assignments but they won’t be essays. They’ll be tasks to benefit you.”

The owner of the voice finally appeared, sitting on what appeared to be a big adult swing at the front of the class, the ropes stretching far into the high ceiling of the enormous classroom. It was a large, friendly-faced black woman, whose calm smile annoyingly seemed to settle Draco’s anxious nerves at what was to come.

“I’m Professor Magoro. I am forty-five years old. My parents were South African but I was born in the United Kingdom. I studied here at Hogwarts. I was married to the love of my life, Morgana Spear, who died at the hands of Fenrir Greyback in the Battle of Hogwarts. She was everything to me and died protecting the world, so while I still mourn her, I know that she did it for us to be here today.”

The class sat in stunned silence at the confession, unprepared to learn so much about their new Professor in a matter of minutes. Especially the bombshell about her dead wife, which twisted Draco’s gut more than he wished to admit.

Magoro looked around at the glum faces, her serene smile still spread across her face. She waved a hand in front of her and stood up. “I’m not here to ruin your day, people. I’m here to make you feel like that weight on your shoulders can be taken off without any guilt!” She started pacing in front of them, nobody even attempting to whisper under their breaths at each other. 

Draco had never seen a group of people so silent, especially for something he had - and still - believed was the most ridiculous thing that the Hogwarts board had ever even thought to add to the curriculum.

“Now, I’m not here to cuddle you and tell you everything’s gonna be okay. I’m here to take you out of the little hole you’ve dug yourselves in since You-Know-Who melted away into the dirt like the shit he was.” A few chuckles and astonished gasps trickled throughout the crowd. “I’m gonna be making you a little uncomfortable, in order to make you feel comfortable. Sounds crazy, right? But being comfortable in yourself means stretching out, finding things that have made you uneasy in the past and embracing them.”

She settled her eyes on both sides of the classroom and sent everyone a sad smile. “Look around at the colour of the sofas you’re sitting on.” 

With a gentle rustle, everyone began to swing their heads back and forth between the two very separate columns of sofas that had once been benches. One strip of green, one strip of red. “I didn’t give you guys a seating plan. I didn’t give you guys a strict order to sit within your Houses, or forbid you to talk. You sat like this. By yourselves. Huddled together like the other side doesn’t exist. Well, not anymore.”

She waved her wand and the colours of their seats changed to grey. She gestured at them. “You guys gotta remember, there’s not always black and white - or in this case, red and green. A lot of the time, you gotta focus on the grey.”

The Gryffindors and Slytherins grumbled amongst each other. Draco turned to Blaise and Theo, who was sitting beside him. They hadn’t said a word.

“You two have anything to say about this old dingbat?” he poked. Theo shrugged.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree. I’ve been saying since Fifth Year that we should have been mingling with the other colours. Not my fault you’re so settled on being ‘green’.” He turned back to Magoro and Blaise half-shrugged at Draco in agreement. Draco sighed.

“Now, I’ve obviously not taught at Hogwarts before. I don’t have the low down on the gossip. But I’ve got a little bit of magic up my sleeve that helped me form these.” She waved her wand and a piece of parchment fell into each person’s lap. They were blank. “In a minute, a name will appear. That person will be your partner for the rest of the year, no arguments. They’ve been specifically chosen for you and won’t be reassigned, so don’t come running to me like your whiney little voices will change my mind.” She sat back in her swing. “Once you got your name, take a sofa together and tell each other one secret you wouldn’t tell anyone else.”

Draco smirked. Whoever he got, he’d lie through his teeth. Easy. Magoro’s eyes fell on him as if his thought had smacked her around the head.

“And if there are any lies,” she raised her eyes to the glittering walls and columns around them, “the room will know.”

Shit.

As the last few seconds ticked by, Draco held the edge of his parchment with nervous fingers. He was fine with some Gryffindors, as much as he protested to Theo and Blaise about his despise for them. Out of everyone - everyone - in the entirety of Hogwarts, the last thing he wanted was Potter, or Weasley, or-- 

Two red words appeared on his parchment, and he immediately felt his heart jump into his throat at the exact same time his stomach felt as though it had travelled through his bowels and onto the floor.

_ Hermione Granger. _   



	2. Chapter 2

Hermione’s knuckles went white and the parchment in her hand crinkled under her grip. She was speechless. Harry and Ron shook her arm, but she stood up wordlessly, dazed, and scanned the now-standing students in pursuit of the blonde head of hair she had been avoiding since their arrival at Hogwarts.

She finally spotted him, still seated, gawking at his piece of parchment like it read the date of his death. She heard Harry and Ron whispering worriedly behind her until her feet managed to move her heavy, weighted body towards her partner. Her feet were like lead and it seemed to take a lifetime to reach his table.

Draco Malfoy finally tore his gaze away from the parchment and swallowed, staring up at Hermione with what almost seemed like sympathy. _Like he doesn’t want me to be stuck with him._

The thought was dashed away at the sound of his voice.

“Granger,” he said, almost cordially. She nodded stiffly back and sat on the sofa beside him, skin crawling at the thought of being in the same air bubble. Malfoy’s friends - Blaise and Theo - seemed amused at the situation that was in front of them. She nodded in greeting to them as they snickered.

“Granger,” Blaise acknowledged, “I don’t have anything to say other than; shit luck, mate.”

Despite herself, Hermione gave him a tentative smile.

“Who did you get?” she asked politely. It wasn’t that she particularly liked the two Slytherin boys, especially since they had been part of the crew that had once called her names and slurs, but they had never directly insulted her, so she figured that it was right to be courteous at least.

“Neville Longbottom.” He grimaced, getting to his feet, “Poor sod.”

Hermione hummed in agreement and when Blaise raised his eyebrows at her, she realised her mistake.

“I wasn’t agreeing! I only meant he’s a bit fragile and you’re--” Hermione didn’t finish her sentence, but she didn’t have to. Blaise snorted.

“I won’t break your precious little friend. Believe it or not, some of us are actually willing to try and do this thing.” He lifted a hand in farewell and headed out into the crowd to find Neville. Theo sighed and got to his feet too.

“Guess I should go and find my perfect match.” He wandered off, mock saluting to Hermione as he left.

 _Well_ , Hermione thought, _that could have gone much worse_. With her distractions gone, she turned her head to acknowledge the person sitting to her left, who had been staring at her relentlessly since she had sat down. She looked anywhere but his eyes - his hair, the window above his shoulder, the collar on his shirt, the slightly-shaking hands in his lap that he hastily tucked in his pockets. The silence stretched between them.

“You’ll have to look at me eventually, Granger.”

She closed her eyes and let out a long, deep breath. Then opened them and stared straight into Malfoy’s eyes.

“Hello,” he said sarcastically, but it chipped away at some of the heavy air between them and she found her lips quirking upwards.

“Hi,” she replied. After another silence fell over them, she tore her gaze away and ran a hand through her hair, letting out another deep breath, “Look Malfoy, are you expecting me to ask how your summer was? Talk about the weather? This,” she gestured between them, “Won’t work. We can’t pretend like the past eight years didn’t happen. We can’t.”

Malfoy finally - _finally_ \- took his eyes off her.

“Didn’t say it was going to and frankly, I’m not willing to try,” he replied, picking up the tiny piece of parchment from the table in front of him and slowly tearing it into strips. Hermione’s piece was still clasped in her now-sweating hand and she placed it on the table in front of her. Two pieces of parchment, one with Hermione’s name that was torn to shreds, and one with Draco’s crumpled into a tiny ball.

“Okay everyone, now that you’re in your pairs I want you to share one secret, no matter how big or small, with the person you’re with. Tell them about the time you wet the bed when you were fourteen, or about the time you saw a man die in front of you - however far you feel like going. But remember; this is about pushing yourselves. The person sitting across from you will be one of the only people you can share your secrets with and know for certain that they’ll never be able to spread them.” Magoro’s voice called out over the loud chatter. The room immediately quietened to a dull, restful titter of words. She waved her wand and curtains began to surround the sofas one by one, cutting all pairs off into their own little alcoves.

Hermione watched with terror as it happened to each sofa, working towards the back until it finally happened to them. The noise from the classroom seemed to disappear instantly, though the light still filtered through plenty.

It was Malfoy and her now. No distractions, just silence.

She shuffled in her seat, picking at the hem of her school trousers, the lead that was once in her feet now in her stomach. What was she supposed to say? She had a million secrets and none of them she was willing to share with Malfoy, of all people. When she raised her eyes to look at him again, noticing that he had begun to roll the shrapnels of parchment into tiny little balls, she clapped her hands on her knees.

“Okay,” she said, determined, “We can’t sit here in silence. I, for one, have never failed to excel in my classes and I would very much like to continue, even if there’s no grading system. I owe it to myself.”

“I would expect nothing less,” he replies back in a flat tone.

After a brief moment to recollect herself, Hermione straightened up and opened her mouth to say her small confession.

“I think this is a bigger waste of time than looking after vicious creatures with that huge oaf.” Hermione closed her mouth, frowning at Draco’s unexpected and unwelcome confession.

“That ‘huge oaf’ is a much better person than you’ll ever be,” she spat, surprising herself at the viciousness behind her tone. Draco wrinkled his nose at her.

“Always was a huge bleeding heart for those less fortunate, Granger.”

“I would hardly call Hagrid ‘less fortunate’, he’s not you so that puts him into the fortunate category without question.”

“Anyone who wasn’t on the side that lost the war is now more fortunate than those that were. But either one of them could have been the loser.”

Oh, so the war was being brought up now? How long had it taken before he’d decided to slip in his great defeat? Less than four sentences? She gritted her teeth together, the hairs on her arms prickling as irritation spiked its way through her body.

“Both sides were losers in the end weren’t we? Hard to feel victorious when there are funerals to attend,” she said. Draco’s jaw had begun to throb half-way through her statement and she could see the muscles in his neck tensing. He jerked forwards and she flinched, immediately hating herself for it.

“Don’t talk to me about your pitiful little losses, Granger. You’ve come away with ‘heroine’ stamped on your abnormally sized forehead. Some of us have ‘traitor’ burned across our entire bodies.”

Regaining her composure, she settled her calm gaze on him.

“Those people made their choice. They should live with the consequences.” Neither of them realise the curtains have swished into thin air, leaving them both exposed to the classroom. Luckily, their classmates were too busy reacting to the new light to notice them.

“What about the people that didn’t have a choice? You’re so quick to defend house elves, wanting to set them free from their controlling owners, so where’s that big Gryffindor heart for the children trying to protect their families? Becoming slaves themselves, for their parents and brothers and sisters? Don’t pretend like you’re some kind of saviour, Granger. You act like you have some kind of oversized heart for _everyone_ in need but you don’t. You only have time for the ones who you’ve decided are already _good._ ”

Hermione doesn’t even have a chance to think of a response before he’s pushed himself out of his seat and stormed out of the classroom, the door rattling the walls behind him.

-

Draco was rigid, his limbs working robotically and his feet thudding against the stone beneath them. He ran a hand through his hair and loosened his tie, rage clouding the corners of his vision as he tried to figure out what direction he was going in.

This year was going fucking _fantastic._ He’d been glared at, tripped, spat at, pushed away and insulted - that was all expected and brushed off. But to have to deal with all of that and stare Hermione Granger in the face every day for a lesson that was completely unnecessary - that was the tipping point. He didn’t need it; didn’t need her self-righteousness and belief that there was nothing in the world she had done wrong. Perfect little girl with a perfect little family and perfect little friends - living the life that all the children on the Dark side had wished they had. And there she was, grinding it into one of those children's faces like he didn’t _know_ already.

He approached the portrait to the Slytherin’s dormitory and gritted the password out, storming in and returning each and every gaze and glare that came his way. He was not in the mood to be the guy they blamed for it all.

Draco turned sharply and marched into the Eighth Year sub-dormitory, a tiny blip of gratefulness that they all had their own separate dormitory and rooms for this final year. He head towards his room and without hesitation, he dropped his knees to the floor, reached under his bed and in less than thirty seconds he had the Firewhiskey in his hand and was taking as many mouthfuls as he could handle.

-

Hermione couldn’t move. She was stiff, shaking and couldn’t stop swallowing even though her throat and mouth were dry. Malfoy had been horrible to her before; he had said mean, mean things. Words that cut her deep and left her empty.

But he’d never said so much to her in one moment and his words had never left her so raw, like he’d torn her open and mixed up her insides before sewing her shut again. It wasn’t that she had been left with stuff to say or that he’d said something that had left her riled up.

It was because it was all _true._

Draco Malfoy had left Hermione Granger speechless. Draco Malfoy had left Hermione _thinking._ Because maybe, just maybe, he was right this time. She had all the time in the world for those mistreated creatures. The house elves, the giants, the werewolves, the centaurs - she advocated for them at every turn and fought with people who told her they were worth less because of who they were.

But she’d just said the same to Malfoy. That he deserved to be treated like dirt because of who he was raised to be, because of where he’d come from, because of who he _is._

She felt like there was glue on her tongue and ropes around her chest.

“Hermione?” She looked up at Harry, who had approached her silently. He looked worried. “You okay?” She swallowed again, looking down at the table.

“It’s fine-- I’m fine. Everything’s fine," she replies, stumbling over her words. Ron stood next to him glumly, red hair flopped across his forehead.

“We’ll talk to the Professor, Hermione. Get you switched to someone else,” he says comfortingly, resting a hand on her shoulder and gripping it.

Hermione didn’t say anything for a moment, thinking hard. She looked up at the Professor across the room and saw her staring in their direction, brow crinkled and lips pursed. Obviously whatever magic that was working in the room had already alerted her to the fact that Malfoy and Hermione hadn’t shared a single secret. Even worse, Malfoy’s theatrical exit was more than enough evidence that the pair did _not_ get along.

Something told her that no matter how much anyone protested - even Harry Potter himself - it would only make her want to keep them together more.

Hermione sat up straighter and clenched her teeth together. _No._ She didn't want to switch. She didn’t want to run away from a silly little boy in the body of a man. Malfoy had been a leech in her side for so many years, like an itch she couldn’t scratch. The war was over, she didn’t want to spend her last year at Hogwarts continuing a new, pointless little skirmish. She’d end it.

“No,” she swiped Ron’s hand off of her shoulder gently, smiling up at them both in reassurance. “I’m okay.” She stood up, ignoring their looks of surprise. She grabbed Harry’s hand and hooked her arm through Ron’s and made her way to the Great Hall, already feeling better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any ideas for tasks that can be set for the Therapeutics class, I'll be more than happy to put some in!!!


	3. Chapter 3

Draco woke the next morning with a throbbing headache, a dry mouth and a horrible feeling in his gut that he wanted to attribute to the alcohol he’d consumed the night before. But he wasn’t the kind of person to drown his sorrows - he simply liked a couple of glasses of Firewhiskey to help him sleep and drown out the dreams. 

This meant that the headache, dry mouth and swirling stomach was related to what he knew was coming today. He’d received a letter from an owl the night before from Professor Magoro, stating that she knew about his and Granger’s lack of sharing and that if they failed to do so in the lesson that day, she would be keeping them both back after classes ended until they did.

Which meant facing Granger again. Now, he always thrived on the fact that Potter, Weasley and Granger were his enemies. But he knew, lying in his rumpled bed gazing up at the ceiling, that they weren’t. After the war, he’d reevaluated what exactly ‘hate’ was. Staring at the snake-faced bastard while he tortured his mother and unable to do a thing showed him exactly what it felt like to detest someone.

So no, he didn’t hate them. But that didn’t mean that he still didn’t find them  _ irritating. _

He sighed and pulled himself out of bed, moving slowly as he picked up his uniform from around the room, trying to calm his nerves as he did so. 

One day he’d been at Hogwarts and he was already more homesick than he had been on his first day.

 

-

Hermione enjoyed lessons. There wasn’t one class that she’d had to partake in that she hadn’t been interested in. Divination had been her least favourite subject, but that was mainly attributed to Trelawney and her insulting method of teaching. She’d walked out of that class and refused to go back, but that didn’t stop her researching everything to do with it in the library after hours.

Therapeutics was quickly becoming her least favourite subject, if you could even call it that. Draco Malfoy wasn’t even the primary factor; she simply didn’t like to open up. Harry and Ron had been her support system before and after the war but even she hadn’t told them everything and she was almost certain they hadn’t told her either. Some things were meant to be kept inside.

This new class was forcing her to face everything she didn’t want to and it scared her to death and while Malfoy wasn’t the sole reason, his presence as her partner certainly didn’t help things.

She pinched the top of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, willing away the heaviness pushing behind her eyes. She was tired. She thrived on learning but something about this Eighth year at Hogwarts was draining something out of her and she’d only been there one day.

She pushed down the homesickness in her stomach and swallowed hard.  _ Don’t think about it. _ She pushed back her blankets and sat up in bed.  

It was a while before she willed herself to get up and prepare herself for her second day.

-

She met with Harry and Ron in the common room before class began, just like she had every morning since they’d all become friends. She must have entered quietly because neither of them looked up from their deep conversation at she entered the room. They were both huddled forwards in the armchairs, whispering hurriedly to each other.

She cleared her throat and they immediately bolted upright, doing their best to look casual and not like they had been practically pressing their foreheads to each other moments before.

Talking about her, then.

“Morning,” Hermione said, heading towards them. They rose from their seats and fell into step beside her as she left the common room. She pointedly ignored their inquisitive stares and focused on greeting the people that acknowledged them as they walked past. As soon as they reached a stretch of hallway where the people thinned out, she knew before they’d even taken a breath that the questions were about to start.

“What did Malfoy say? Did he call you the ‘M’ word again?”

“Hermione, I’m sure McGonagall will have words with the Professor if we asked her.”

“Should we have a talk with Malfoy? You know, the kind of talk that involves our fists and not our mouths or wands?”

Hermione shook her head, smiling, and grasped both of their hands briefly before letting go.

“Ronald, you know I can’t tell you anything he says and even if I could, I wouldn’t need to tattle to you. I can take care of myself. And no, he didn’t call me a Mudblood - in fact, he didn’t say anything insulting, it was all rather true. And you’re not punching anyone,” she turned her head towards Harry, “I told you that I wasn’t going to run to the Professor to switch partners. He’s just a person, Harry, like me and you. More unpleasant, yes, but still a person.”

They both finally closed their mouths.

“The second something goes wrong, you come find us, we’ll teach him a lesson,” Harry flipped his wand between his fingers in what he probably thought was a display of dexterity. Hermione choked back a laugh.

“If anything goes wrong, I’m certain you’ll know, since all I’ll leave behind is a silhouette of ash on the wall in the shape of Malfoy.”

-

Draco felt nervous. It wasn’t that  _ my-life-is-on-the-line _ kind of nervous that he was feeling in the pit of his stomach, one that he was unfortunately quite used to. It was more of a  _ first-day-of-school _ kind of nervous.  _ That  _ was a feeling he hadn’t had in a long, long time. A slight twist in his stomach that was just enough to make him lose his appetite and his breath catch in his chest.

“You’ve got the willies,” Theo said immediately upon coming out of his room, though his eyes were focused on the bowl of treats on the table. Draco let out a laugh that sounded a little too forced and opened his mouth to respond. “Don’t even think about trying to argue with me, the toad that just screamed from inside your throat obviously proved my statement.”

“You’re a bit of a bastard, Theo.”

“It’s why you love me so much.” Theo popped a chocolate in his mouth and chucked the wrapper onto the floor, watching it dissolve into the hard tile. “She’s just a girl, D. Tell her about you wetting the bed when you were twelve because you had a nightmare about Dumbledore’s beard trying to eat you. Problem solved.”

“Theo, I shouldn’t have even told  _ you  _ that.” Draco slung his school bag over his shoulder. “I could have been the Dark Lord’s famous deadly sidekick and you would  _ still  _ be whispering that in my ear.”

Theo grinned, his teeth coated in chocolate. He swiped his floppy dark hair out of his eyes and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Shall we go?”

“Where’s Blaise?”

“Already left. Wanted to go down to the greenhouses for something, I dunno.” Theo walked past Draco and grabbed him by the elbow to guide him out of the dorm. “Apparently him and Longbottom got on alright, think he’s taken a bit of a shine to him.”

Draco raised his eyebrows at Theo in surprise. “Longbottom? Shine? How is that a thing that’s happening?”

“War changes people,” Theo said, and Draco wasn’t completely sure if he was being serious.

_ - _

Draco, Theo and Blaise were the last people to enter the classroom and once they all split up and went to their partners, Draco realised he’d neglected to ask Theo who he’d been paired up with. Through all of his worrying and irritation, he’d completely forgotten that Theo had been subjected to the same uncomfortable process as he had.

Promising that he’d ask after the class was over, he made his way over to the back, as per usual. Granger sat there waiting for him, notebook and quill out despite Professor Magoro’s insistence that they weren’t needed.

Letting out one more deep breath to ease the pressure in his chest, he seated himself next to her and took his time rearranging his school bag by his feet. He refused to look at her. Just looking at her brought up his word vomit from the previous class and he knew she’d be sitting there ready to snap back at whatever offhand greeting he gave her.

There was moment of uncomfortable silence where they both examined the class around them, watching as some of the pairs chatted freely and some of them mirrored his situation, staring at their tables in a steadfast refusal to interact.

He spotted Blaise chatting with Longbottom and the two of them seemed relaxed around each other, solidifying Theo’s previous claims. Eventually he spotted Theo over the heads of many people and muttered a curse under his breath.

He was sharing a brown leather sofa with a messy head of black hair. Potter.

Here he was, sitting with the brains of the damn Golden Trio, acting like it was the end of the fucking world and Theo had the mighty Lord and Saviour himself. He made a mental note to push Theo for it later.

“I’m sorry.”

Draco was jerked out of his mental dilemma and briefly glanced at Granger, wondering if he’d simply caught a chunk of someone else’s conversation in his head and assumed it was her. She was staring at her quill and twirling it in her fingers when she looked up suddenly and met his gaze with purpose. So it  _ was  _ her.

“What the hell do you have to be sorry for?” He replied, a little bit harsher than he meant to. She didn’t seem to care or notice.

“You’ve probably never had to apologise for anything in your life, but I’ve never been the type of person to be proven wrong and refuse to acknowledge it out of spite. So, like I said, I’m sorry.”

Draco frowned at her in confusion. “That didn’t answer my question.”

“You were right! I was being biased because of your background, just like I promised myself I wouldn’t be. That doesn’t mean your slate is wiped clean, Malfoy. I may not judge you based on where you came from, but that doesn’t mean your past indiscretions are forgotten.” She let out a breath and immediately seemed to relax in her chair, like the words had been keeping her upright.

He couldn’t seem to find the right answer. This wasn’t what he thought would happen. He thought she’d continue to be the same old uptight, hypocritical, all-righteous little twit he’d always known her to be. But she’d taken that little mannequin version of herself he’d built in his head and thrown it straight off a cliff.

Luckily, he didn’t have to respond. Professor Magoro walked out of the door at the front of the classroom with a flourish, her elegantly decorated pink and red robes flowing behind her. Immediately the class silenced and she grinned up at them all.

“Welcome back!” She exclaimed, spreading her arms into the air. “I want to say a job well done to you all but unfortunately, there were only three pairs that actually did the task I assigned to you last session. Come on, guys! It was as simple as telling someone you once tripped over your own foot and said a word you’d promised your mummy you’d never say. You have fifteen minutes to do the task I set and we move onto the next one.” She sat herself on her swing and pushed herself off of the ground for a little momentum. “If you don’t manage to, I’ll keep you back after class until it’s done. Which I will  _ not  _ be happy with. I have a bag of Salty Snappers waiting for me in my office and a butt load of books to read and I don’t want my evening ruined. Do it for me.” She waved her wand and then the curtains that felt like a coffin to Draco slowly began to close around them.

Suddenly, the nerves and Granger’s words bouncing around in his head made him dizzy and as the curtains swallowed them up, his hands began to shake. He was going to do it. He’d say whatever the hell he had to to get himself out of this stupid, stupid situation.

None of the other tasks this crazy Professor had set could possibly be worse.

-

Hermione didn’t know what had came over her. All day she’d been fretting about Therapeutics and the moment she’d seen Malfoy in her peripheral vision, it had disappeared and she’d known exactly what to say.

She’d felt dirty apologising to the one person who had yet to apologise for everything he had ever done to her. But she’d constantly repeated that it didn’t excuse her own behaviour and that she wasn’t going to lower herself to Malfoy’s level and build up almost a decade’s worth of apologies.

She’d almost been disappointed when he hadn’t been given a chance to respond, although at the same time she was relieved. It was beginning to get uncomfortable with him gawking at her like she’d suddenly sprouted antlers.

As the curtains began to encase everyone around them, she felt significantly calmer than she had the day before. Whether it was the apology, or her renewed attitude towards Draco -  _ he’s just a person -  _ it didn’t matter. Because once she was engulfed in that warm not-quite darkness, she was ready. She was going to say whatever she needed to to get herself out of this sticky situation.

But there was no time to get a word in.

“I’m the one that spiked the punch at the Yule Ball.” She swallowed, her eyebrows creasing into a frown of confusion. Malfoy had spoken first.  _ What was he doing? _ “I once trod on Mrs. Norris’s tail and felt bad afterwards. Someone once bought me a pygmy puff as a joke and I actually liked it. My mother dressed me in pink dress robes when I was five because apparently it was ‘in fashion’. I don’t like the balls my mother throws for my birthday every year. I once hugged a blonde woman as a child because I had mistaken her for my father; I don’t know who was more offended. I had a nightmare when I was twelve that Dumbledore’s beard was eating me and never got over it.” He took in a breath. “That’s it. I’m done with this stupid shit.” He looked around at the curtains. “If that’s not enough for your pathetic game, then I’m going to walk out that door and never come back.”

There was a beat of silence. Hermione watched as Draco tried looking at everything but her, his jaw throbbing and shoulders solid and tense. Something was stirring.

Hermione couldn’t help it, she just couldn’t. It bubbled up from her stomach to her throat and then she was shaking. Draco lifted his eyes from the table to finally look at her. Her hand was covering her mouth in an attempt to keep it in, but the moment his eyes landed on hers it came out.

She was laughing.

Just a quiet, careful, restrained laugh - she couldn’t help it. So many ridiculous things to process at one time. Nevermind that the person sitting next to her had been an accomplice to some of the darkness that now clouded her life; the images fluttering through her head was too much.

Draco just frowned at her, as if she was disrespecting him somehow. She cleared her throat and swallowed her laugh, the corners of her lips still twitching.

“I’ve shared enough,” Draco said, and the seriousness of it sets her light snorting-laughter off again. She composed herself.

“Why did you tell me those things?” She asked, knowing not to poke any further into any of his confessions. Draco glared at her.

“‘No matter how big or small’, nutcase said. I decided on small, it’s all you’ll ever get,” he snapped. She shakes her head.

“What may have seemed small for you was big for me. I don’t think I’ll ever look at you the same way again,” she replied, feeling a smile begin to pull at her lips again. Draco shook his head and tore his gaze away from her, only to bring it straight back.

“Be glad I didn’t share the big load.” The smile that had been attempting to come back immediately disappeared. The thread hanging off of her skirt suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world to her and she picked at it, refusing to look up. She’d caught herself, remembered who she was sitting in this tiny little world with. “I believe it’s your turn now, Granger.”

Hardness spread across her chest as she realised she’d not told her confession. She had so many little ones she could spare that was an easy rebuttal. That she didn’t know how to ride a bike, that she dropped her pet hamster once, that she broke her mum’s favourite ornament and blamed it on her dad. She didn’t know where to start.

She looked up at Draco and stared at him. Stared and stared and stared until he finally met her gaze and refused to break away.

She hated the man sitting across from her. But after that little brief peek into his life, he was almost beginning to seem more like a normal human being and not some robotic Slytherin who’d contributed to almost destroying the world once. She knew his story. She’d been to his trial, watched Harry defend him and his mother, seen the distraught look on his face as his mother awaited her sentence, watched the relief rush through him and the hug he’d given her.

But nothing had made the feeling more solid than those tiny little confessions he’d said to her in that moment. She took a deep breath, eyes locked completely with his and felt her legs go weak and her hands begin to tremble in her lap.

“If I tell you something, will you be quiet? Can you pretend I never said it and leave it be?”

Malfoy’s throat bobbed as he swallowed and the air thickened between them. It was different. Not uncomfortable, but not easy. Heavy.

“That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?” He said with mild irritation. Hermione wanted to look down at her lap, or her hands or at the braiding on the curtain. But she drew herself in and breathed in a shaky lump of oxygen.

She wanted to tell someone, anyone, and in a position where the one person sitting across from her was absolutely absolved from telling anyone else? Where she would receive the least pity possible? She couldn’t think of a more perfect situation.

“I…” Her voice started croaky and wobbly and she finally broke her resolve and stared at the table beneath her. It gave her that tiny little bit of strength she needed to carry on. “Before the war started, when Voldemort was regaining his forces, I went home for the holidays to see my parents. I spent a week there, eating their food, laughing with them, playing card games and watching telly. And by the time I was due to come back to Hogwarts, I packed my bags, gave them a kiss and a hug goodbye and I--” She blinked back the tears in the back of her eyes and if there was  _ ever  _ a time when she felt like not looking at Draco Malfoy, it was now. For the sake of herself, she pretended like it was an immovable object next to her, something to talk at that couldn’t respond. She needed to say it out loud. “I… picked up my wand, stood behind them as they turned away and I--” She breathed. “I wiped out every single memory of me that they had. My first steps, my first word, my favourite story book, my first day of school, all of the times they said goodnight and tucked me in. Gone.” She looked back at him with a stiff upper lip.“They’re in Australia now. They run a little beach shop on the coast somewhere. Safe.”

Malfoy’s face was unreadable. He sat there, staring at her, face completely passive. She thought he almost looked bored. Then he swiped his hand through his hair and turned away.

“Well, fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the reviews so far! I'm winging this whole story if I'm honest, so things might go a bit pear-shaped and I might forget certain things, but just drop me a review to remind me and I'll fix it up. Some of you have left really long reviews that have honestly made my week.
> 
> Sorry for taking so long to upload, I was on hols and currently getting over an illness. Also, some of you left a couple of ideas for future tasks that Professor Magoro will set (she'll be more involved in this fic in the future, btw), feel free to leave some more!!!


	4. Chapter 4

“Miss Granger?” Hermione, Ron and Harry stopped in their pursuit to leave the classroom when Professor Magoro’s voice cut through the middle of their conversation. She sent Hermione a gentle smile. “A moment, please?”

A little confused, Hermione reassured Harry and Ron and watched as they left before making her way to the front of the classroom where Magoro was still rocking gently on her wooden swing. She removed her school bag from her shoulder carefully and placed it on the table next to her.

“Professor? Did I do something wrong?” She asked, frowning when she remembered the confession she’d made barely fifteen minutes ago. Surely she’d done everything that had been asked of her?

Magoro shook her head and stood up, lifting both her arms and  gesturing for Hermione to go closer. Hermione obliged and moved forwards. Once she was close enough, Magoro took her into her arms and hugged her. Hermione went stiff with surprise. She noticed Magoro smelt like lavender and smoke and it seemed to ease away every tight bone and wound muscle in her body. Eventually, she pulled away.

“It’s a special perfume, immediately relaxes anyone who inhales it other than the wearer,” Magoro said, eyes twinkling. “Seemed like you could use it.”

Hermione let out a short, gentle laugh. “Is that why you wanted to see me? To make me relax?”

Magoro moved over to her desk and began to sort out pieces of parchment into piles, sending Hermione watchful glances. “I’ve not been at this school long, Miss Granger. The magic I use to partner up my students is a simple spell, so I didn’t think anything of who was with who. But it’s come to my attention that your partner is a special one in particular.” Eventually she stopped shuffling around and sat down on one of the sofas. She patted down next to her and Hermione followed, sinking into the cushions and folding her hands into her lap. Magoro rested a hand on hers. “Everyone in this school has history together, I’m aware. But Mr. Malfoy and you are different. My class is about pushing you to overcome your demons, but I don’t want you to feel so uncomfortable that this class - this situation - makes things worse.”

Hermione smiled gently at her Professor. She was nice, this one. Her aura alone made Hermione feel like everything she was keeping inside was just bursting at the doors to her mind, trying to get out.

“Did Harry tell you?”

“No, Miss Granger, I just… learn the things I need to.” Hermione decided not to question the mischievous glint in her eyes. Instead, she thought. Now was her chance to make this all go away. She could switch partners, be put with a different nameless Slytherin and glide through the rest of Therapeutics without a care in the world. But that wasn’t what this class was about. Not only that, she’d already begun to resign herself to her fate as Malfoy’s partner and she’d told him something she’d never told anyone. As much as she hated him, as much as she wished she could be around anyone else, she’d already gotten her game on.

“I think I’ll be okay, Professor,” Hermione reassured, shaking her hair away from her face and plastering on a brave smile. Magoro was quiet for a moment, staring, watching her for any little chip in her behaviour.

“You seem to be the only person wanting to take this class seriously,” Magoro said with a laugh, breaking away from her silent interrogation.

“I think everyone will see sense in it, eventually. It’s already started to help me, so that’s one person who doesn’t think this is a waste of time.”

“You are a strange one, Miss Granger. I think you doubt your strength when you stand next to those two boys, but I’m almost certain you’re probably the strongest of them all.” Magoro patted her on the knee and rose to her feet, Hermione following suite. “That’s all, I won’t pester you any longer.”

Hermione picked up her bag and threw it over her shoulder, watching as Magoro moved away to sit herself at her desk and placed some reading glasses on her nose. After being sure nothing else was going to be said, she began to leave.

“Miss Granger?” Hermione turned. Magoro looked up at her through the space in her lenses. “If that boy - if anyone - bothers you or belittles how seriously you are taking this class, you come straight to me. Or even if you just need to talk. It’s what I’m here for.”

Hermione felt her shoulders lighten and when she breathed out, it felt like a breath she’d been holding for over a year. She gave Magoro a tentative smile.

“Thank you.”

-

Draco was a mess. Obviously, he knew that already, he’d known he was a mess the moment he’d come into the world screaming and nude. But he was even _more_ of a mess now.

He loved a fight with magic or sport or games, he thrived on the competitive feeling of it and the adrenaline rush when he won. Mind games were a whole other level. When someone told him something that he knew would get him killed just by knowing it, when people whispered in his ear to turn him against others, when ‘he said, she said’ was thrown into his face knowing full well he would take everything to heart. It was his downfall.

He tilted his head back on the sofa in the Slytherin common room, ignoring the hustle and bustle of people meandering around him. Granger - _Granger -_ someone he hadn’t even spared a thought for after the war had ended. _Liar, you thought about them all._ What was she doing? Telling him something so personal and damning and gut-wrenchingly sad, even to him. He hated his father, yes, but his mother was all he had left. He couldn’t possibly imagine being the reason she could be wandering around in some other country, having no idea that she’d ever given birth to a son.

“Thinking about her again?” A voice came from over his shoulder. He opened his eyes and frowned over at Blaise.

“Yes, McGonagall's legs just really rustle my feathers.”

Blaise pulled a face. “That’s disgusting.”

Draco smirked and sat himself up straighter in his seat, making space for Blaise to sit down.

“How’s your little partnership with Longbottom going? Has he managed to convince you to stop eating lettuce because it has feelings too?” Draco quipped, ignoring Blaise’s frown as he sat down next to him.

“He’s an alright guy, you know. Big bumbling idiot, yeah, but he’s been through some shit.”

“Haven’t we all?” Draco and Blaise turned to greet the new voice. Theo grinned and threw himself in between the two of them, despite the lack of space. After plenty of moaning and shuffling around, they were all sat tightly together on the sofa. Draco smacked Theo on the shoulder.

“You didn’t tell us you got Potter. I’ve been complaining about Granger and you’ve got the biggest dick of them all.”

Theo shrugged. “Can’t really complain about it, to be honest. He just sits there and says nothing unless he has to.”

“First task down, though. Wonder if anyone actually admitted some deep shit,” Blaise stared carefully at them both. They all looked at each other, waiting for one of them to begin to look uncomfortable. Draco squashed down the discomfort and ignored Granger’s voice ringing in his ears.

“They can’t say even if they did, Blaise,” he said, meeting his gaze carefully. Blaise shrugged and put his hands behind his head.

“Maybe the old dingbat is better at this then we thought she’d be.”

-

Hermione seated herself next to Ron and Harry in the Great Hall, wrinkling her nose as Ron inhaled his food. _Honestly, why do I love him?_

“A’right Hermione?” He asked around a mouthful of food. She rested a hand on his shoulder as she leaned across to get some eggs.

“Fine, Ron,” she replied, looking up at Harry who seemed particularly sullen. “You okay, Harry?”

Her voice seemed to shake him out of his stupor and he smiled weakly up at her. “Thinking about Therapeutics. You know I got put with Nott, right?”

Hermione blinked, eyebrows raising. No, she hadn’t. She hadn’t even thought about who Harry and Ron had been put with.

“Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry. I’ve been so caught up with Malfoy I didn’t even think to ask you how things were going with you and Ron.”

“It’s fine, Hermione, really, we’ve definitely not got it as bad. It’s been… difficult. But funnily enough, I keep remembering what you said. He’s just another person right?”

Hermione smiled and patted him on the hand, taking a bite of bread with her other. “Has he been okay? He seemed just fine when I talked to him briefly.”

Harry smiled grimly. “He’s been okay. Talked a lot more, actually. It’s me who's been having trouble. You know what I'm like.”

Ron pulled a face. “Okay? Slytherin? Mine’s a boring old twat. Elizabeth Blackwood. Just talks about her life all the time.”

Hermione frowned. “That sounds quite pleasant.”

Ron took a chunk of sausage and chewed on it loudly. “If you’re interested in her coin collection, yeah. She keeps trying to talk to me out of class, too. Bloody annoying.”

Hermione shook her head and turned back to Harry, who was watching her intently.

“How are things going with Malfoy? Managed to get past the first task okay?” Hermione looked down at her lap, remembering a few days before when she’d blurted out the biggest secret she’d ever held in her life to a man she hated. But her lips quirked up a little when she remembered everything Malfoy had splurged onto her too.

“Actually? It’s been... better than expected.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Ron’s voice rang through her right ear.

“It means he’s being as courteous as Malfoy can possibly be. I haven’t had the urge to zap his pretty little face off yet, which has to be a good sign.”

“Pretty?!” Ron exclaimed, slamming his fork down onto the table, causing several heads to turn in their direction.

“It’s an expression, Ronald. Will you be quiet?” Hermione hissed at him, looking around reassuringly at the people staring. They turned back to their meals and Hermione sat up straight, letting out a stressful sigh. Harry snorted and grinned at them both.

“You’re such a married couple.”

“Shut up,” Ron and Hermione grumbled in response. Blushes appeared on both their cheeks as they returned to their breakfast.

-

Draco sat in his usual seat in Therapeutics, tapping his finger impatiently against the table in front of him. He was nervous again. Like he’d done something incredibly embarrassing in front of someone that he was about to see, though he knew that wasn’t the case. His eyes kept on flitting up to the door, waiting for a head of brown hair to appear.

His eyes snapped up as the door opened again and a spike of heat ran up his spine and straight into his head when Hermione’s eyes met his. He wanted to drop them back to his hands but he couldn’t look away the entire time as she walked towards him. She gave him a tentative smile.

“Malfoy,” she said in greeting.

“Granger.” He watched her carefully arrange her bag, watched her place her parchment and quill meticulously next to each other, watched her swipe her slightly-more-controlled hair over her shoulder.

“I told you what I did because I knew you wouldn’t look at me any different, Malfoy. There’s no need to stare.” He jerked out of his trance and cleared his throat, tearing his eyes immediately away from her.

“I’m just trying to figure out how you’ve regained control of the nest on top of your head,” he replied. It was supposed to be a jab but it came out much too softly. She snorted gently.

“I was tired of looking like a haggard little bookworm.”

“You sure it wasn’t to impress a certain ginger-haired prick?” His attempt to be harsh fell flat once again. She settled a hard stare onto him.

“Even if it was, it has nothing to do with you.”

“How come you two haven’t gone exclusive yet, anyway? Thought I’d see your faces plastered all over the Daily Prophet, announcing pregnancies and marriage and whatnot.”

“It’s none of your damn business, Malfoy!” Hermione hissed angrily, her glare burning into his skull. He felt satisfied, the status quo having returned to normality.

“Judging by your overreaction, I’m guessing it’s a sore subject and the stupid idiot hasn’t realised yet,” he replied. Hermione didn’t respond, just gritted her teeth and glared at him for a moment more before turning away and scribbling away on her parchment.

“No,” she grit out, “he hasn’t.”

Draco was stumped. She wasn’t supposed to reply. Again, he was saved by Professor Magoro emerging at the front of the class, meaning his response was redundant.

“Morning, guys! Hope the rest of your week has been alright. Personally, mine’s been shit,” the class snickered at her swearing once again. “New task for you all! In fact, if you’re quick enough, we could finish two tasks this lesson and then I’ll leave you all be for the weekend. More talking, unfortunately! I want you to tell the other person one thing you like about yourselves and one thing you hate. Not events that have happened, _traits._  Do you like your courage? Hate your paranoia? Anything like that. And if you can do that fast enough, I’ve got a little toy I want to bring out to share with the class.” She waved her hands in the air. “Go on, then!” The curtains swished around them all, leaving them in their own little bubbles once more.

This was okay. Draco could do this. He was full of self-loathing and he certainly didn’t mind sharing it with the world.

“Want to start? I’m sure you’ve got plenty of options,” Hermione said, though the little poke that was supposed to be hurtful came out more jokingly than anything. Draco snorted.

“Can’t fault that.” He rested his elbow on the table and placed his cheek in the palm on his hand. “This is easy. I like my dashingly good looks, but I hate my blonde hair.”

Hermione seemed like she almost wanted to laugh. “Malfoy, I don’t think that’s what Professor Magoro was talking about when she set this task.”

He shrugged. “It’s close enough, isn’t it?”

Hermione shook her head at him, her eyes raising to his hair. “You hate your blonde hair? Why don’t you do something about it?”

Draco took his cheek away from his hand and ran a hand through it. “It’s a Malfoy thing. There’s no magic in the world that can get rid of it.” Her eyes almost seemed to light up at the brief little bit of knowledge he’d shared upon her. Of course, she was probably a sucker for magical genetics. “I believe it’s your turn, Granger.”

“I don’t think we were completely finished with your turn, but sure.” She smiled down at the table. Draco tilted his head at her, waiting for her to talk. It was obviously going to take a while for must-tell-Malfoy-everything Granger to find the right words for whatever it was she was going to say. He stared at her profile, her little button nose, her perfectly curved lips when she smiled, the little ringlet by her ear. She looked up and he grimaced, realising he’d been staring. “I like my love for education. It’s been my safety net for as long as I can remember. Anything new and foreign I’ll immediately need to know everything about. The thing I hate?” Her eyes twinkled. “That I’m an uptight know-it-all.”

Despite himself, Draco let out a snort of laughter. “Granger, if you admit that, it takes the fun out of calling you it.”

“Just because I know I am doesn’t mean I like to be reminded,” she replied, leaning back against the soft cushions of their sofa. “I think you should start again. Magoro will know you didn’t do this properly, you know.”

Draco sighed and leant back too, turning his head towards her. He stared again, raking his eyes up and down her body. She seemed comfortable. Comfortable in his presence, of all people. It was disconcerting, but also a little… nice. Hermione Granger found him the absolute bane of her existence and here she was, eyes closing and breathing even and calm. “I like my motivation. Give me a cause and I’ll fight for it. But I hate that the causes I’ve been given to fight for were the wrong ones.”

Her eyes opened and she met his. No surprise at his admission, which was worrying, but no pity either. He didn’t want pity at all.

“You know,” she sat up in her seat, “every time we have to do this, you surprise me a little more. You’re still an arrogant, unbearable cockroach but at least I don’t feel like cutting your face off everytime I look at it.”

Draco swallowed. He didn’t know what to think of that. Of course, he wished he could have the redemption every bad guy in every book he’d read had gotten. But he hated when things weren’t normal anymore. When the same people who had glared at him and spat at him his entire life suddenly starting getting him presents and laughing with him. He didn’t know if he was comfortable with Granger admitting that he was becoming just another one of those people she might not remember in ten years, when she has several little weasel babies running around. At least if she hated him, she’d remember him.

“If we’re stuck together for this stupid waste of time, I’d rather you weren’t attempting to attack me every time we sat next to each other.” Hermione nodded in agreement.

“Did you know that Harry and Theo were partners?”

“Figured it out last lesson, you’re unobservant.”

“You think they’ll be okay?” Hermione replied, glossing over his jab. Draco shrugged.

“Theo is all for this ‘House reconciliation’ crap. Him and Blaise kept their noses out of the war, you know that. Potter’s in safe hands.”

Hermione scoffed. “Makes a change for Harry to be the one being difficult.”

“Potter’s not as perfec--” The curtains moved away, cutting him off. Magoro beamed down at all of them from the front of the class.

“Well done! You’ve all completed the second task with no problems. It doesn’t seem like much, but I’m very proud of you. Thought we’d be stuck here for another week trying to get you guys to talk to each other. Now, onto the third task! I imagine this one will take a little longer.” She clapped her hands together and a pair of doors opened to her left. A large contraption levitated itself out and the class was quiet in eerie curiosity. Draco stared at the huge stone bowl with empty vials levitating around the rim, frowning in confusion. _What the hell is that?_

He glanced at Hermione to see if she was as confused as him and was met with a stricken expression.

“What is it?” He whispered under his breath. He watched as her throat bobbed and her eyes watched the object steadily.

“It’s a Pensieve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Lilian_Silver and Mitochondria for the ideas for the new tasks! Your other ideas will be put into the story eventually too, seeing as though I started this and I'm already struggling to think of some things to set them. (Also, completely forgot about the different sections of the classroom I'd made, will implement them in soon too!)
> 
> If anyone else has any ideas, I'll be open to them, even the cheesiest tropes you can imagine!! (Think of this as just a huge multi-chapter story filled with tropes and throw them at me!)
> 
> As always, please mention any errors or places I've messed up in the plot (I forget things I write a lot).


	5. Chapter 5

“You've shared some secrets, maybe some bad, maybe some good. Now it's time to share a memory of a first. The first time you felt true joy, the first time you felt despair, the first time you made a choice that you regretted.” Hermione’s shoulders sunk in relief. A first was easy. Easy, easy, easy. Was this how the class was going to go from now on? Start hard, get easier? 

Professor Magoro smiled. She smiled in a way that made Hermione tense straight back up again, because  _ of course  _ it couldn’t be that easy. 

“This ‘first’ that I’m asking you to share with your partner? It’s not chosen by you,” she tapped her wand, “it’s chosen by my wand, by a spell of my own making. I know, I know, I’m sorry!” She exclaimed when the class began to groan. “I’m not trying to yank your chains around here. I’m just not going to barrel you with difficult tasks every week or the rest of the teachers will start complaining about how you’ve been attending your classes as nothing but empty shells. Well, enough chit chat. Let’s get to it.” She whipped her wand around and a piece of parchment fell into her hand. Sliding glasses onto the tip of her nose, she tilted her head up and read out the first names.

“Theodore Nott and Harry Potter!”

The rest of the class watched sullenly as the two of them rose from their sofa. Hermione glanced between his and Theo’s face, realising that while Harry looked disgruntled, Theo looked absolutely petrified, a look she didn’t think she’d ever seen on a Slytherin’s face.

“Your Potter’s seen shit, Granger, but it’s shit everyone already knows about.” She heard Malfoy whisper beside her. “What Nott’s seen? It’ll wreck Potter’s little incapable brain.”

She didn’t look at him, her eyes firmly on what was happening in front of her. Watched as Theo raised a trembling hand to run through his hair and watched as Harry’s clenched fists held steady. And then, a little bubble of sympathy popped in her chest, for the both of them.

Professor Magoro turned to the rest of the class and raised her arms. “Obviously this is  _ not  _ going to be a public spectacle. I’m not that cruel. You are all free to talk amongst each other until it’s your turn!” Curtains swung around the Pensieve. The students began to rise out of their seats and make their way over to their friends, probably to discuss the upcoming travesty that was their third task.

Hermione stayed put, ignoring Ron’s waving hand on the other side of the classroom. She turned to Malfoy.

“Give me a warning. Tell me there’s going to be nothing bad, tell me I’m not going to hate you more than I do now after I see what’s going to be in that Pensieve.”

Malfoy’s mouth downturned into a horrible grimace, eyes hard and brow wrinkled into a deep frown. “Granger. I can’t do that.”

Hermione rested her head in her hands, elbows propped up on the table in front of her. “I hate this.”

Malfoy was quiet. Hermione could hear Ron calling her from across the classroom but she couldn’t hear it through the thoughts running around her scattered head.

“Granger.” She looked up at him. He was looking at his finger that was gently scratching away at the knots in the wood on their table. “Tell me what I’m about to see won’t make me hate you more too.”

Hermione let out a huff of humourless laughter. “I can’t do that.”

Malfoy let out a snort. “This is fucked.”

Hermione hummed in agreement, finally looking up at Ron’s insistent shouting. “I should probably go and talk to him.”

“You don’t sound like you want to.”

“Well, it’s either sit here with someone I despise, or go and talk to the person who’s so clueless about my feelings I could write it on the wall in blood and hang Mrs. Norris next to it and he still wouldn’t realise.”

Malfoy surprised her with an actual, genuine laugh. “Shit, Granger, who knew you could be so dark.”

She smiled grimly at him as she stood up, hiding the tiny swell of pride in her chest she felt for making evil, grumpy Draco Malfoy laugh. Without another word, she headed over to Ron, who was frowning at her, lips puffed out like they always did when he was unhappy. She hated that she found it endearing when realistically, it was such an ugly expression. Such was life.

“Malfoy laughing at his own jokes again?” Ron joked, though it was forced. Hermione smiled at him and looked at her feet.

“Laughing at me, actually.”

“What?! I’ll kill--”

“Ron! He was laughing at something I  _ said. _ Will you relax?” She whispered through gritted teeth, placing a firm hand on his shoulder to calm him. Ron’s stiff posture sunk and he retreated back into himself. He still looked like he’d smelt something bad. His eyes tore away from Malfoy and onto Hermione and she did  _ not  _ like the look in his eyes.

“Something you said? You’re making Malfoy  _ laugh? _ ” Hermione wanted to shake him. She knew that Ron hadn’t come out of the war how he went into it. The Horcrux had done something to him; his already-fragile mind had taken a beating, sending cracks through the portion of his brain that made him paranoid and angry. Her and Harry had been the first to witness it. Some would argue that maybe his strong feelings towards Hermione meant she faced the brunt of it more than Harry. 

But Hermione wasn’t going to tell herself that. For all she knew, this was it for her and Ron. He was too distrustful, too angry, too torn apart by what had happened with Ginny. Maybe he blamed her and Harry for that. Hermione let out a shaky breath.

“Ronald, I am trying my very, very best to stay as level-headed as I can this year. I want to enjoy Hogwarts. I’m not about to let Malfoy ruin that and if it means that occasionally, we might have a normal conversation,” she laughed at that in her head, “then that’s what I’m going to do.”

Ron watched her carefully for a few beats more. Then he finally, finally relaxed. 

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” he said, pulling her into a strong hug. Hermione’s hands gripped tightly into his school robes and she breathed in his scent.  _ This is it. This is why. _

“It’s okay,” she replied, burying her head into his shoulder. Eventually they pulled apart and she smiled up at him. “You worried about your turn?”

Ron shrugged, looking over at his partner, who was talking amongst a few Slytherin’s Hermione didn’t recognise. “Haven’t got anything to hide, have I? I’m a bloody hero.”

Hermione smacked him for his lack of humility, but laughed.

Their heads turned when the curtains opened and revealed their Professor, Theo and Harry. The class was deathly silent and watched as Harry’s feet carried him quickly across the classroom, past Hermione and Ron, past Draco and Blaise who had been chatting at the back, and straight out of the door. It slammed shut behind him.

A spike of panic hit Hermione straight in the spine and she immediately started to chase after him. She got as far as her allocated seat before a hand came out to grab her arm. Her hair whipped her face when she turned to glare at her restrainer.

Draco’s jaw was throbbing, teeth gritted. 

“Don’t.”

Hermione tried to shake him off, but he wouldn’t relent. Hurried footsteps behind her made her turn back around just in time to see Theo run out of the door too, shouting after Harry. Her eyebrows rose so high she was sure they’d disappeared into her scalp entirely. 

“Told you,” Draco said cockily behind her. She turned back to him.

“How did you know Theo would go after him?”

“Because Theo’s not a heartless bastard.” Hermione stood, contemplating. Again, she’d just gone and judged someone based completely on their past and heritage, expecting Theo to be too proud and too uncaring. When her arm started to become unusually warm, she looked down at the source and saw that Malfoy’s hand was still wrapped gently around it.

It whipped away the moment her eyes fell on it and when she glanced back up to Malfoy, he had turned back to Blaise. Blaise winked at her over his shoulder and she shook herself, tucking her hair behind her ear as she made her way back to Ron.

He was chatting with Neville and Dean, looking just as stressed and worried as she felt. She didn’t get to reach him.

“Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger!” Magoro shouted above the chattering. And God, if Hermione hadn’t heard a class go quiet as quickly as they did. Her throat felt like it was closing. She knew this was coming but no, no, no, not this soon, not after seeing Harry, not when she hadn’t prepared herself--

“Come on, we haven’t got all day!” She approached Hermione, pulled her along gently by the arm. “Don’t be nervous. I’ll be there the whole time. I won’t see what’s happening, but I’ll be there the moment you get out. It’ll be fine.”

Hermione got wafts of the perfume she’d previously inhaled and she hated the way it made her relax, not when her mind was still stirring. Her feet felt like lead as she climbed the two tiny steps up to the front of the classroom and she approached the Pensieve. She watched the silvery liquid swirl around, tufts of vapour licking the air above it. It would have been calming if she didn’t know what the magic inside it entailed.

A warm body moved up beside her and she watched the side of Draco’s face for any sign of fear or nervousness. He was holding strong, face blank, but she could see his throat bob when he swallowed the moment he met her gaze.

Magoro swished her wand through the air and the curtains surrounded them, leaving the three of them in a low-light that made the oncoming task even more horrifying. She moved in between Hermione and Malfoy, resting a hand on each of their shoulders. Hermione didn’t miss the way Malfoy flinched at the touch.

“You two are a special kind of partnership. I understand your history, so I know this is going to be hard. But, unfortunately, I’m going to have to ask you to have some faith in me and go through with this.”

Hermione nodded glumly, but Malfoy frowned at their Professor in distaste.

“You don’t know anything. Putting us all through this after what we’ve already been through isn’t some kind of therapy - it’s sick,” he spat, and Hermione saw a glimpse of the Malfoy she’d forgotten. She didn’t miss the tiny flash of hurt that flickered across Magoro’s face. She bristled defensively.

“Shut your mouth and deal with it, Malfoy. Some of us need this, we can’t all lock our problems away and live miserably for the rest of our lives--”

“--You’re going to talk to me about locking problems away? Haven’t even told your best friends about--”

“That’s enough. Mister Malfoy, you are going first,” Professor Magoro interrupted, thankfully cancelling out whatever it was that Malfoy was going to be stupid enough to say. Hermione had already guessed though - her glare was evidence enough.

Malfoy didn’t have time to protest before Magoro was casting a spell and pulling a long, white thread from the side of his head. She pointed the tip of her wand into the vial and it floated around, bouncing off the sides of the bottle gently.

“This is an invasion of privacy,” Malfoy spat in a low voice, staring at the vial with wide, worried eyes. Hermione wanted to tell him to be quiet, to get on with it - but a bit of her agreed.

“Malfoy, what you see in this Pensieve is between you and Granger. Need I remind you that anything seen within these walls doesn’t leave them.” Magoro poured it into the Pensieve and the swirling gray liquid that Hermione had stared at moments before began to rotate faster and faster until it was calm. Waiting.

“Just do it, Granger,” Malfoy said from beside her, defeated. Hermione looked down into the bowl, feeling worse and worse until eventually, she took a big, deep breath and dived in.

-

She knew where she was. Even with the sunshine pouring through the windows, sending happy light across all of the pristine furniture, she knew. But she pushed aside the panic, focused on the memory in front of her.

A woman she recognised as Narcissa Malfoy stormed into the room, placing herself elegantly across one of the sofas and even in her anger, she was graceful. Moments later, a young boy with bright blonde hair dawdled into the room carefully. It had to be Draco Malfoy, no older than seven.

“Mother?”

Narcissa’s deep frown melted away at the sound of his voice and she let out a sigh, patting next to her.

“Come here, Draco.”

He obliged and Hermione actually found his little dress robes and scowling expression almost cute. He sat himself beside his mother, snuggling himself into her side.

“Why do you and Father fight so much?”

“We’re married and have a lot to worry about, Draco. It’ll pass,” she replied comfortingly. Hermione had never heard or seen Narcissa so soft and gentle. It was silent for a moment and Hermione watched as they cuddled on the sofa together, not able to shift the feeling of seeing something she shouldn’t.  _ Well, I shouldn’t.  _

Narcissa cupped Draco’s head and pulled him into her chest tighter and her face moved away from Hermione’s view. Her feet seemed to move by themselves, taking her to an angle where she could see every expression crossing Narcissa’s face. She looked distraught, using the cuddle to hide her face from her son.

“Draco?”

“Yes?”

“Will you make mummy a promise?” Draco started to tug his head away to inspect why his mum’s voice had started to sound so odd, but Narcissa held him tighter.

“Okay.”

“Remember this. When things get bad, when you feel sad or lost, remember this. Us, together, on a sunny day, when all you have to worry about is if you get ice cream after dinner.”

“Will I?” Draco replied excitedly, trying to move away again. Narcissa didn’t let him, placing a hand on the back of his head and stroking his hair. Hermione swallowed again and again, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat as she watched a tear fall down Narcissa’s cheek. Narcissa kissed Draco on the top of his head, again and again, pressing her nose to him and cuddling him tighter and tighter.

“Focus, Draco. I need you to remember. One day, there will be things much more important than ice cream to worry about. When you grow up big and strong, you might need to do some really, really bad things. You might not, but if you don’t, you might have to leave me and your father for a while.”

“What?! I don’t want to leave you!” 

Narcissa huffed a laugh into his head, wet tears dropping onto his vibrant hair. 

“We won’t be here forever. I want you to be a big boy and if things get scary, remember this, okay?”

“Mummy, are you okay?” Narcissa sniffed, wiping her face with her hands hurriedly and finally letting Draco go.

“I’m fine, Draco. Now go and tidy your room, or I’ll feed that ice cream you want so much to the elves.” She turned her face away and pushed him a little, encouraging him to move. He stood, staring at her for a minute, face lost and confused. Then an expression of determination and stoicness much too adult for a young boy spread across his face.

“Okay, Mother.”

His tiny dress robes swung around him as he made his way out of the room. He paused at the door, hand on the frame, to turn back to his mum, who was still sitting on the sofa, face turned towards the window.

“I love you, mummy. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” Before she could turn back to him, he was gone.

Narcissa broke, hands pressed into her face as she let out loud, gut-wrenching sobs. Hermione’s eyes were shining with unshed tears until they couldn’t hold anymore and they came tumbling down her cheeks. Watching this woman, so proud, so strong, wife of a Death Eater, collapse into dust because of the love she had for her child. It was  _ awful. _

“The first time I saw my mother cry.” Hermione jumped, a small hiccup escaping from her throat. Draco was standing behind her - the  _ real  _ Draco - and  _ fuck  _ she’d never seen anyone look so miserable. Gutted, torn,  _ lifeless _ .

“Draco--”

“We don’t talk about this,” he stated blankly, bringing his dead gaze over to her and away from his mother. The scene behind them finally went quiet and began to fizzle away behind them. “You mention this, I will make sure you never talk about anything again.”

They were back in the classroom before she could respond, Magoro watching between the both of them carefully, as if they were about to pounce. 

“Everything okay?” She asked, focusing her stare on Hermione more than Malfoy. She nodded, not trusting her voice just yet. 

“My turn,” Hermione said, using a hand to wipe away the remnants of the tears from earlier.  _ Always so easy to cry, aren’t I?  _ She nodded at Magoro, determined. Magoro’s proud smile boosted her confidence and her nervousness at Malfoy having a chance to poke around in one of her memories suddenly didn’t seem so bad.

Malfoy wouldn’t look at her, just stared into the Pensieve, like he hadn’t left the previous memory. Blank. Trapped in his head. Magoro pulled out her wand and swizzled a white thread from Hermione’s head around her wand like it was a noodle before chucking it straight into the Pensieve. There was a torrent, the gray turned darker and then it settled.

Hermione looked up at Draco who lifted his own head at the same time. Their eyes connected and Hermione threw him a humorless smirk, gesturing towards the Pensieve.

“After you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was seriously so, so tired when I wrote this, so I'm sorry for any mistakes and if the writing isn't up to par (I know I have words I overuse and bad habits with my writing, trying to iron them out!)
> 
> Please, keep throwing ideas my way for the Therapeutics class. Also, I know there's not much going on outside of the class, I just love writing the interactions between Draco and Hermione so much, I don't get inspired to write many others. I will be trying to bring more Blaise/Theo/Draco convos and Ron/Harry/Hermione convos into it, though. Not much else I can include, honestly. Ideas for things outside of Therapeutics would be helpful too, actually! Was thinking of maybe doing a ball or having a House unity party or something.


	6. Chapter 6

It was the same room. The same room, same objects, but shrouded in an overlay of darkness. Everything was dull and grey, no light peeking through the pulled curtains. Horror pulled at Draco’s heart, stretching it across his entire chest. He knew. He knew immediately where he was, when he was and what was going to materialise any second.

He watched, staring at his mother and father hunched over at the edge of the room, hands resting on his own shoulders. He saw the frustration, regret and guilt etched over his face as Bellatrix’s voice became unmuffled and the sound of the memory clicked in his ears, clear as day.

“How did you get into my vault?” Bellatrix’s mouth blew hot air over Hermione’s face and Draco saw her face scrunch up in disgust, trying to turn away from her wide-eyed, threatening stare. “Filthy little girl, I can do whatever I want to you and no one will stop me. You  _ will _ tell me.”

He knew what past-him did next. Left the room. He watched himself pull away from his mother and father, heels of his shoes clicking on the wooden floor as he rushed out of the room. His back was stiff and he knew that on the other side of that door, his back was pressed against it and he was gasping in air. 

Just another moment in the war that made him realise that everything he had ever fought for and followed was so utterly, utterly  _ wrong. _

But he had to watch it now. There was no walking away. Hermione’s outstretched arms laid flat against the cold wood floor, hands shaking so much her knuckles were gently tapping against it. 

“Please, I didn’t take it,” Hermione begged.

“I don’t believe you. Mudbloods don’t do anything but lie, lie, lie. You need a brand so everyone can know just how much of a  _ liar  _ you are,” Bellatrix whispered angrily into Hermione’s crumpled, pleading expression. She reached behind her and pulled out a knife, licking the blade with a manic smile before crouching over Hermione’s arm.

“No, please, please, I’m not lying--” Hermione’s voice was cut off with her scream and Draco swallowed the bulging lump in his throat that was stopping him from breathing properly. He didn’t want to watch this, he’d been there, he’d heard it all, he didn’t need to  _ see  _ it--

“The first time I’ve ever feared for my life.”

Draco opened the eyes he hadn’t known he’d closed, noticing that the real, present Hermione was standing next to him, watching the memory with a look in her eyes he never wanted to see again.

“I-- I didn’t do anything,” Draco replied stupidly. He wanted to say he was sorry for not helping, that it was another regret that he thought about every single day. Who cared that they were enemies from the moment they started school together-- it was someone he knew, someone he’d seen in class everyday, someone he’d conversed with, lying on the floor in  _ his  _ home being tortured by  _ his  _ aunt and he’d done  _ nothing _ .

“I’m not stupid, Malfoy. You’d have gotten yourself killed if you’d helped and you know that too. I’ve never blamed you for this.” 

He hadn’t expected that. He’d expected an ‘it’s okay’, or a ‘go fuck yourself, Malfoy’. Not to be told that she didn’t even blame him at all.

Her memory ended quickly and it wasn’t long before they were back in the classroom, enclosed by the thick, green curtains, Professor Magoro standing between them. He raised his gaze from the Pensieve to Hermione and saw tears glistening in her eyes, her hand trembling, rubbing at her forearm.

There was no time to say anything. The curtains swooshed open and Hermione jerked out of her stupor, staring in shock at Magoro and then straight at Malfoy. It took half a second for a tear to fall in a straight line down her cheek and she wiped at it hurriedly, unaware that she’d been close to crying to begin with.

“I--” She started, but when she realised the rest of the class staring at them both, waiting for a reaction, she fell silent. Her feet carried her away from him and he watched her carefully as she headed to the back of the classroom robotically, picked up her bag, and walked out of the door.

-

Draco was sitting in the common room, sipping from a crystal glass of Firewhiskey, uncaring about the ‘rules’. No one seemed to give a care in the world that he was freely lounging around, drinking forbidden alcohol. They didn’t seem to care about his presence, full stop.

He was thinking about the events that had happened two days ago. He hadn’t been able to  _ stop  _ thinking about it. Granger with her watery eyes and screams, his mother cuddling him, Granger not even blaming him for something he’d always thought had been his fault.

“You look as cheerful as always.”

Draco looked up at Theo and let out a sigh, easing himself back into the sofa, gesturing for him to sit beside him. Theo obliged.

“You and Potter--”

“I’m going to stop you there.” Theo raised a hand, leaning forwards to grab Draco’s bottle of Firewhiskey and taking a swig of it. “You know I can’t talk about it, even if I want to.”

Draco pulled a face. “Didn’t care that much anyway,” he lied.

They sat in silence for a moment, pondering on the questions they wanted to ask each other but were unable to answer.

“He’s a clusterfuck of stuff, that Potter,” Theo huffed a laugh, “I mean, for someone who everyone brown noses, he’s not exactly as golden as everyone thinks.”

“And yet you ran after him like some female protagonist in a play.” Draco tipped the last of his whiskey into his mouth and snatched the bottle out of Theo’s hand to pour himself another. 

“He’s not that bad. He’s been funny at times, not the constipated, uptight fuckhead we thought he was. Even laughs at me now.”

Draco let out a laugh. “Please don’t tell me you’re becoming Blaise. You’ll be brushing each others hair and talking about the war in no time.”

Theo actually looked annoyed, which was rare for him.  “D, some of us are trying to move on, you know. Not our fault you wanna linger on Mr Voldy and let it eat you alive.” 

He snorted at the nickname and looked up at Theo, who was scratching at an invisible mark on his trousers. Could he trust him? Was Theo someone he could talk to about Granger? He didn’t want to talk to anyone, ever. He didn’t want to let anyone know how he was feeling, how he was doing, whether he’d had a good morning or finally fell asleep at night unaided. But Theo was sitting next to him, clearly as miserable and haunted as him. He was always there, ready to talk, while Blaise was off prancing in flowers with Neville.

“Granger’s getting into my head,” he finally admitted. Theo looked up in shock, probably at the sudden admission, but he was nice enough to not immediately make fun of him for it. “She pities me, but insults me. She detests me, but she’s sympathetic. It’s fucking annoying and I hate it.”

Theo smirked. “You mean you  _ want  _ to hate it.”

Draco put his glass on the table in front of them and slumped back into the soft cushions of the sofa, running a hand through his hair. “Why the fuck did we have to come back here?”

“Because as much of a pain in the arse this all is, it’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative,” Theo said. 

Reluctantly, Draco agreed.

-

“Harry?” Hermione said softly, staring at her friend. He was leaning forwards in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, elbows on knees, head in his hands. He didn’t look up. She moved towards him warily. He’d been quiet, the last few days, refusing to acknowledge what had happened to him and Theo. “Are you ready to talk yet?”

“When am I ever?” He mumbled in return, though his statement had a joking edge to it. Hermione smiled and rested a hand on his shoulder. He lifted his head and placed a hand on hers, his eyes strained with stress. “I miss Ginny.”

Hermione removed her hand and sat down next to him on the sofa, pulling his head towards her shoulder. She gently stroked his messy black hair, staring into the fireplace.

“She’ll be better at Beauxbatons.”

“She’ll be better without me, you mean,” Harry replied, readjusting his head on Hermione’s shoulder. 

“It’s for the best, Harry. Taking a break doesn’t always mean it’s forever, you know.” Harry made a noise that meant he obviously didn’t believe it. Hermione continued to stroke his hair, staring into the fire. “I know you can’t say much, but how is it being partnered with Theo?”

“You mean ‘what the hell happened the other day’, don’t you?”

Hermione laughed. “Yes, but I was trying to ask in a way that wasn’t as nosy.”

“It’s okay. He’s funny, actually. One of those people that cover his misery with jokes and banter. If he’d been a Gryffindor, we’d have probably got on.”

“Harry,” Hermione said sternly, “The whole point of this was to ignore our Houses. If you think you’d have got on if you were in the same House, then you probably just  _ get on _ .”

“It’s not as simple as that, Hermione. He was one of them. He was in a House notorious for hating people like you, who bullied and laughed at us all our entire school life. That’s not so easy to forget.”

Hermione’s hand stilled on his head. “But has he ever done any of that directly?”

“What?”

“Has he ever insulted you, hurt you, laughed at you, sneered at you? Has he, personally, done those things?”

“Well, I-- I guess not. Never saw him, actually.”

Hermione smiled to herself. “There you go. You’re making judgements, just like all those Slytherin’s used to about me.”

Harry sat up straight, looking into her eyes, his own sympathetic. “What about you? What about you being paired with someone who did all those things to you? How do you get over it?”

She took Harry’s hand in hers and turned it over and over, brushing his knuckles. Then she looked up, staring straight at him with a small smile. “I forgive.”

Harry took his hand away. “Hermione, you can’t forgive what he did, you can’t--”

“--Harry Potter, do you think I’d be so foolish as to start to forgive someone who hadn’t shown me they might be worth it?”

Harry snorted. “Malfoy? Worth it? Never.”

“You haven’t seen what I’ve seen, Harry and you’ll never be privy to that information. Even if the secrecy charm is lifted,” she said sternly. It was no one’s right to tell her who she could and couldn’t forgive, not even Harry Potter’s himself. The fact that she was beginning to even  _ consider  _ that there might be an ounce of redemption in Draco Malfoy was a shock to her, she didn’t need Harry making her doubt herself.

“I don’t trust him. I know, I judge, but not him, Hermione. Not after everything he’s done.”

A chill ran up her spine as she stared at her friend, who was watching her blankly. He didn’t understand. He wouldn’t. And if he didn’t, Ron certainly wouldn’t.

Nodding glumly, she stood stiffly, not saying another word as she made her way into her room.

-

“Welcome back!” Magoro clapped her hands together and smiled brightly at the class. Hermione had barely had time to take her seat next to Malfoy before the class has started. Magoro seemed eager and that concerned her. “Today, we have a couple of tasks and I’ll keep it light, I promise. We’re going to have a bit of fun.”

Malfoy snorted beside her and Hermione smiled, agreeing with his sentiment.

“First, trust falls!” Hermione raised her eyebrow, thoroughly underwhelmed. She cast the look at Malfoy, who was giving her the same. Magoro laughed at the look on all of their faces. “I know, I know, pretty pathetic even for me. I’ll be honest, my class planning this week went down the pan a bit, I slept a lot.” The class laughed at her. “Well, we’ll follow the same pattern as last lesson, I’ll call you up one at a time and you’ll perform it up here.” She gestured to the small, raised floor in front of her.

As easy as the task was, Hermione felt nervous. She looked over at Harry, then Ron, sitting with their partners and paying attention to the Professor. How would they react to her and Draco not spitting fire at each other at the front of the class? She knew there would be questions. Magoro clapping her hands together drew her attention away from them.

“First up, Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger?” Hermione frowned, but rose to her feet. 

“Afraid I’ll let you fall?” She heard Malfoy whisper in her ear. She smirked. 

“You should be afraid I’ll let you fall and then kick you for good measure.” She heard him laugh beside her and felt a bit disheartened that her threats no longer made an impact.

The class tittered as they approached the front of the class and Hermione ignored it, taking her place. She intentionally avoided looking at Harry.

Draco stood beneath it and smirked at her before she turned around and crossed her arms over her chest. Magoro smiled at them both.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry this isn't up to standard. I was actually really reluctant to write this chapter but knew I had to update, been so tired the last two weeks I've not found time! Two kids are tiring work.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it anyway, I'm sorry it's so short, as always I appreciate any ideas for the Therapeutics class.


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione took a deep breath. She remembered doing trust falls with Harry and Ron back when they had only been friends for a year and the feeling of complete and utter trust she had when she tipped herself backwards, knowing they would catch her.

She didn’t have that feeling now.

Either Malfoy would catch her to avoid the wrath of everyone else sitting in the classroom, or he would let her fall just to amuse himself, which seemed like the much more likely option.

Magoro waited patiently. The rest of the class tittered amongst themselves and from what Hermione could hear, nothing they were talking about had anything to do with the scene in front of them. She was grateful for that. But even though she had her back turned to the large classroom, her neck prickled, sensing Harry and Ron’s eyes burning into the back of her head.

“Granger,” Malfoy’s voice said from behind her, impatience laced in his tone.

She took in the biggest breath she could muster and let her legs fall from under her. Her eyes screwed shut, waiting for the hard wood of the classroom floor to collide with her head, waiting for Harry and Ron to rush to her side, waiting for Magoro to start scolding Malfoy. But it didn’t come.

Hard, clothed arms levered themselves under her armpits easily, holding her weight up. Hands wrapped themselves securely over her crossed-over wrists, warm skin coating hers like a soft blanket.

He’d caught her. He hadn’t let her fall.

Her breath caught in her chest and when her heart finally decided to start beating again, she jumped into action, lurching herself away as fast as she possibly could. Her feet tangled over one another in her attempt to turn around and get away at the same time and she found herself falling once again. __Idiot,__ her mind quickly shot at her while she braced herself for the same impact she had faced the first time she had fell.

But those hands were there again, grasping at her arms in an attempt to steady her and she was pulled face-first into Malfoy’s chest.

Idiot seemed like a much too polite word to describe herself now.

She raised her head slowly, fully expecting Malfoy to shove her away in disgust any second, insulting her for her clumsiness - clumsiness she had __definitely__ not suffered with before - or just start generally insulting her, as was the norm. Instead he looked down at her, fingers on one hand brushing against the skin of her wrist as he brought it back down to his side and the palm of his other hand gripping her shoulder tightly. Hermione’s eyes travelled around his face, taking in everything, like she was reading her notes minutes before a test for that final time. His eyes did the same, the look of surprise never quite leaving his face.

Barely seconds had passed, but once both realised it has been a second too long to be normal they jerked apart.

“It was supposed to be __one__ trust fall, Granger, not several,” Malfoy spat half-heartedly, though his voice wobbled at the end. It went unnoticed to Hermione, who frowned back.

“Maybe if you hadn’t caught me like your arms were made of glass, I wouldn’t have lost my balance!”

“Excuse me? I caught you just fine! For a girl who is supposed to be good at everything, it’s surprising you don’t even know how to fall properly.”

“Well--”

“Please,” Magoro’s voice cut in over them, “Please, for my sake and the sake of my impending headache, just switch positions.”

Letting out a exasperated huff, Draco turned around and crossed his arms over his chest. Hermione squashed down the churning in her stomach at the thought of having to come into contact with him again, hoping with everything in her being that Malfoy was much better on his feet than she was.

Magoro waved her wand over Malfoy. “Temporary spell, he’ll feel lighter now,” She nodded at Hermione. She hadn’t even thought about the weight of Malfoy falling into her much-smaller arms. Nodding her thanks, she focused her attention back onto Malfoy.

“Whenever you’re ready, ferret.”

Draco tipped himself backwards and Hermione caught him without a hitch. This time, the contact between lasted less than half a second before they were apart, several feet between them. Magoro clapped her hands together.

“Lovely! Good job, you two. Lets hope the others follow your example! Back to your seats, please.” She passed them both a piece of parchment. “While the others focus on this task, I would like you to get started on the next. Write a letter to someone in your life about anything. Someone who has passed, or someone who is alive who you can’t share your feelings with. Anything!” The two of them felt relief, but as per usual, Magoro relished in giving them a feeling of ease before ripping it away from under their feet. “Of course, the other person will be reading this letter too, regardless or whether they know the recipient or not. Off you go now!”

Their feet dragged them back to their seat. Hermione was so focused on the parchment in her hand, she completely forgot to check to see if Harry and Ron were still watching her. Malfoy sat himself rigidly back onto their sofa and Hermione threw herself onto it with a sigh.

They both sat in silence, staring at the parchment in their hands, using it as their safety net for their attention so it could be on anything but each other. Hermione’s wrists itched.

“Look who’s up.” At the sound of Malfoy’s voice, Hermione’s eyes shot straight up to the front. Theo and Harry. The awkward silence between the two of them disappeared while they watched both of their best friends start what had seemed like such a simple task at the beginning of the lesson.

Harry was first, turning around without even a word from Magoro and crossing his arms across his chest. Theo stood behind him, smirking.

“I should tell you now, Potter, this is the hardest decision I’ve had to make in a very long time. Nothing against you, mate, but I’d love to mess this up for anyone willing to be stupid enough to trust me.”

Hermione watched Harry let out a snort of laughter and despite herself, she smiled. It warmed her heart, seeing the two of them actually be cordial with each other.

Harry tipped himself backwards and Theo caught him easily. He took the opportunity to poke Harry in the ribs and he squirmed out of Theo’s grasp as quick as he could, Theo cracking up with laughter beside him.

Harry said something in reply that made Theo start laughing again, but it was lost to the sound of the classroom’s chatter.

“Didn’t think uptight Mr. Potter could make other people laugh. I thought it was his role in life to be the bearer of bad news and doom,” Draco quipped beside Hermione. Hermione would have immediately risen to this comment, had she not heard the underlying tone of surprise. He genuinely thought that Harry was a miserable idiot all the time.

“You think I would spend my time with a person simply because of their name and not because they might actually have a shred of personality?” Hermione replied.

Draco turned to look at her for the first time since her trust fall with an expression so serious she almost felt like laughing. “Yes.”

She shook her head. “That’s a Slytherin mentality. And before you cut me off--” She held her finger up when Draco opened his mouth, “That is not my prejudice, that is how the world of the upper class live. With name-dropping and reputation. I never said it was a bad thing, just how it works.”

Draco looked like he wanted to argue with her, just for the sake of it, but he tilted his head to the side in half-acceptance. He couldn’t deny it, really.

Hermione’s gaze fell to the piece of parchment in front of her. A letter. There were so many people she wanted to write to. Her parents; Snape; Dumbledore; all the victims of the war. How was she supposed to pick one?

Feeling brave, she turned to Draco. “Who are you going to write your letter to?”

“Can’t choose,” He replied simply and she hummed in agreement. They both knew they were supposed to get started on the letters, but they twiddled with the parchment in their hands and watched as pair after pair took it in turns to fall into each other arms.

And each time it happened, Hermione’s skin tingled and her body felt warm.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while! Sorry, life has been hectic, but I'm back on track now and my writing inspiration is back! Mainly for this fic, though. I at least want to finish it for those that have been reading it.
> 
> Short chapter, I know, but I do have another in the works already! Just felt like leaving it here, honestly. Again, sorry if it's all a bit too Draco/Hermione so early on, I am horribly impatient when it comes to fics that don't have a huge storyline arc overall lmao.
> 
> Also, keep throwing those ideas at me and please correct any errors in grammar/odd sounding sentences!


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